


Limits

by nanuk_dain



Series: Impossible Relationships [25]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_dain/pseuds/nanuk_dain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim loses focus and forgets his limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limits

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/pic/000be3gq)

Eyes. 

The world consisted only of eyes. Terrified eyes, sad eyes, scared eyes, dull eyes, resigned eyes, empty eyes.

Dead eyes.

The only thing Tim remembered about every single one of the people he treated since they'd come to the disaster area were their eyes. He forgot the faces, the bodies, the names – if he ever knew them. But he always remembered the expression in their eyes, and it was always something he'd seen way too many times before. The eyes ate at him, their pain burned into his memory, into his very soul, and he didn't know if he could ever be free of them. 

He had to do everything he possibly could to help them, to make a difference. Even if it was just a tiny difference. Because it was all about making a difference. He had to remind himself of that every single time a new patient stepped into the tent. Sometimes he didn't quite manage to convince himself, and then he wondered how many more there were, how many more scarred souls were going to look at him through old eyes in young bodies. 

The days had long since turned into a blur of activity that was roughly the same again and again. Tim couldn't tell anymore when he'd done what, who he'd treated at what time or how many bodies they'd piled up in the courtyard of the remains of Mutur Hospital. The smell had got worse with every day that passed, and even if it went against Tim's ethics, he'd ordered the bodies to be buried in mass graves they'd dug out with the remaining inhabitants. They tried to take pictures of every corpse to make identification to a later date possible, but no matter his ethical feelings, Tim knew they had to get rid of the bodies. It was becoming dangerous, they were to close to the outbreak of diseases that could turn into epidemics, and it was his job to keep that from happening.

Tim was infinitely glad about the support of the local people, especially Padma proved a fantastic leader. She organised search parties, got people to dig the deep holes they needed to bury the bodies, managed the transport of the ever increasing number of corpses to their final resting place and established a close collaboration of the Rescue and Relief group with the remaining staff of Mutur Hospital. Everybody worked to the point of exhaustion, from the young mother to the old man next door. 

Tim lost himself in the steady flow of work, in the repetitive motions of caring for the injured that were still a steady stream to their tents even after days of their presence. He grabbed an hour of sleep here and there, mostly when Ray or Padma made him leave the medical tent with bodily force when his hands became too shaky to be reliable. He ate whatever they pressed into his hands, never stopping in his work. Time was essential, everybody knew that. They'd already lost so many people because they'd been too late to help, and Tim wouldn't have that happen again if there was even the slightest chance of preventing it. He didn't know how many more dead eyes he could take, so he did everything in his power to keep them from dying.

On the second day, they'd begun to transform the orphanage into a makeshift aid station. Since it was one of the few structures still standing, it provided dearly needed shadow during the day. They'd cleared out most of the rubble that had blocked the rooms, checked and secured walls and ceilings as good as they could and then set up rows of wooden planks they'd gathered in the debris to serve as beds – or at least as protection against the rough, uneven ground. All planks were occupied since day three and they'd had to resign to just laying people next to each other on the ground. The situation hadn't improved much since.

And then there were the children. If his count was correct, there were fifty-three children within the walls of the orphanage by day eight. Some had lived here even before the tsunami had hit, others were newly arrived kids from Mutur and the surrounding villages, kids that had lost contact with their families – or had seen them die in the water. Somehow, the people of Mutur had brought every lost child to the orphanage, knowing it was the place where families would come to look for them. And somehow the responsibility of the orphanage had fallen to Tim and his team because they occupied the building with their aid station. It was where people went when they were hurt, when they were looking for a lost member of the family, when they needed any kind of help. 

Padma had recruited a few local women to help with the care of the injured and the children. She'd also obligated Ray to take care of the kids whenever his skills weren't needed elsewhere. Tim wondered if she'd decided on it when she'd seen Ray with the little girl, Lakmini, who clung to him like a leech and wouldn't let him out of her sight, or if Padma had known that first evening, when Ray had gathered the kids in the courtyard and had told them a story, more with gestures and noises than with words. They were caught up in the world Ray created with the help of Padma who had to translate words for him that he repeated and wove into a story that relied on the fantastic imagination of a child's mind. For those thirty minutes, there was no hunger, no pain, no fear, no sadness, no death. 

Tim had found himself standing in the back of the courtyard, unable to hide his smile at the sight. When he'd turned his head, he'd seen adults joining the children, some he knew where housed in the aid station, some came through the gate that had no doors, all attracted by the now rare sound of children laughing. The men and women had all smiled, the same smile Tim had felt on his own features. It had been a magical moment, the laughter of the ragtag group of some twenty dirty children echoing across the courtyard, the unimpaired joy right there in the middle of this wasteland of despair and pain. It had taught Tim an invaluable lesson about the sturdiness of children.

It was on day eight – or maybe day nine, he wasn't entirely sure – when Ray caught him outside the orphanage. Tim had just finished his round and was about to return to the medical tents where Lynn, Jerry and Lyle were working on the injured that still arrived en masse. 

“Hey.” Ray gave him a smile and held out a MRE. “It's well past lunchtime. When have you last eaten?”

Tim shrugged, accepting the pack. “I don't remember. A while ago.”

Ray snorted. “More like 'ages ago', hmm?”

“Possibly.” Tim smirked and ripped open the pack, going for the energy bar first. He felt dizzy, knowing it was a combination of lack of sleep and lack of food, and at least he could cure the latter now. 

“On the risk of sounding like a worried wife, but when was the last time you slept?” Ray asked and when Tim made to answer, Ray raised his hand to keep him quiet. “And no, I don't mean those half-hour naps you've been living on for the past week.”

Tim closed his mouth again, taking a bite of the energy bar and chewing thoroughly instead of answering. He didn't know what to say anyway, Ray would see through a lie immediately.

Ray huffed out a breath in frustration, a deep frown on his face. “Really, Tim, you know better than to drain your body like that. We're not in combat.”

Tim swallowed before he looked up. “No, this is worse.”

“I agree.” Ray nodded slowly, his face dark. “But we also have over fifty children in our care, Tim. We have to keep focussed. We're their difference. You yourself taught me that that's what matters. Don't forget your own lesson.”

“Don't lecture me, Josh.” Tim's frown deepened. He really didn't need Ray telling him what to do.

“This will go on for quite some time, Tim, before the situation gets any better, and that means you have to ration your strength.” Ray continued as if Tim hadn't spoken. Then he snorted, but it wasn't amused. “Hell, you're the doc, I shouldn't have to tell you that. In fact, I remember _you_ telling _me_ the same thing a few years back. I think it was in a place called Iraq.”

“Leave it, Josh. I know what I'm doing.” Tim growled and moved to take another bite of the energy bar. Before he managed, though, Tim felt his back connect with the unforgiving hardness of the wall. He looked up in surprise and stared right into the seriously angry face of one Joshua Ray Person. His eyes were narrowed and there was a dangerous glimmer to them, his teeth were bared in a snarl and his hands were fisted in Tim's collar, pressing him hard into the wall.

"You listen to me, Robert Timothy Bryan! You get over to that fucking tent and you grab some hours of sleep, do you understand me?"

"Josh..."

"No!" Ray interrupted before Tim could say more than one word. "I know this gets to you, okay? I get it, because it gets to me to. For fuck's sake, Tim, it gets to all of us! But of course you have to push yourself so far that even the strains of a deployment pale against this. You don't do anybody a favour if you work yourself into the ground and die of exhaustion!"

Tim swallowed the anger that was rising inside him, trying not to explode into Ray's face. "I'm not 'dying of exhaustion', Josh. I'm perfectly fine, maybe a bit tired, but we all are. Don't you tell me how I feel!"

"You're swaying on your feet! Hell, I managed to smack you into a wall and you didn't even react, never mind fight back! That tells me more about your physical condition than any of your words! I didn't lose you to Iraq, and I will _not_ lose you to your own stupid stubbornness now!" Ray yelled and shook him once so that Tim's back hit the wall again. "You think you owe it to everybody here to work until you succeed to save them or to die trying. But you know what? You first and foremost owe it to _me_ to stay well and _alive_! You get that, you pig-headed idiot?!" 

Tim just stared at Ray, completely speechless. Never before had Ray exploded like that, never had he yelled like this, never had he been that mad. It was as overwhelming as his actual words, and Tim felt himself sag against the wall at his back, suddenly drained off his own anger.

Ray let go of his collar and his hands drifted along Tim's neck until they curled into fists in his hair, his intense gaze focussed on Tim. "You're mine, Timothy Bryan, and I won't stand aside and watch you run yourself into the ground."

Tim swallowed hard, a shudder running through his entire body and goosebumps spreading over his skin. It was a strange mixture of despair, arousal, desire and exhaustion that made him feel light-headed. He nodded, slowly but firmly. "Understood."

Ray licked his lips in a gesture that seemed oddly vulnerable. "Good."

Tim hesitated for a moment, then he leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around Ray, pulling him in an almost desperate embrace. He felt something inside him uncurl at the contact, and he let out a long breath. Only now did he realise that he hadn't really touched Ray since they'd left for Sri Lanka.

"Told you I had to come along to take care of you." Ray mumbled against his neck and chuckled. "Told you _you_ wouldn't do it."

Tim buried his nose in Ray's hair, never noticing the smell of sweat. For him, it only meant comfort, familiarity, home. "I'm sorry, Josh."

"Okay. Just promise me to take better care of yourself from now on, yeah? I want to keep you around for at least another fifty years."

“I promise.” Tim chuckled tiredly and hugged Ray even closer, drawing strength of the physical contact. “But I don't know about the fifty years. That would make me eighty-three, and I don't know if I make it that long.”

“You have to. You're not allowed to leave me alone.” His tone was easy, casual, but Tim knew Ray meant it.

Tim smiled against Ray's neck, knowing he'd feel it. “Okay then. Fifty years it is.”

“Good.” Ray pulled back slowly. “I don't want to ruin the mood or anything, but it's your bedtime now.”

Tim let go, reluctantly, and Ray stepped back. Before he could tell Tim again to go and get some sleep, the little girl Ray had found in the ruins of the orphanage ran through the gates and attached herself securely to Ray's right leg. She wrapped her arms around his thigh and talked to him, and never mind that Ray didn't really understand her words, he seemed to get the gist of what she was telling him. Tim didn't, but he smiled at the sight of Ray interacting with her.

“Hey Lakmini.” Tim greeted her and knelt down next to her. She turned to look at him with her big brown eyes and gave him a spontaneous, huge smile. At that precise moment, Tim knew that they'd made a difference. Maybe there were more expressions than just pain and fear in the eyes that looked at him, Tim thought. Maybe there was hope. And maybe _giving_ hope was the difference he made.

Maybe it was enough.


End file.
